


There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays

by sjhw_tolerance (mscorkill)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 11:42:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mscorkill/pseuds/sjhw_tolerance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a routine mission, Sam & Jack end up in the past and find help from an unexpected source.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays

**Author's Note:**

> This year's challenge is "time travel". Write a story where Sam and Jack spend Christmas together in the past - just how far back into the past is up to you.
> 
> I've taken a small liberty with the prompt, but I think the story meets the intent of the challenge. Enjoy!
> 
> Originally posted December 2009.

THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS

“Daniel, how much longer?”

Jack O’Neill, his eyes continually moving over the ruins, stood with his back to the archaeologist. There was just something creepy about the long deserted temple, something he couldn’t quite pin down but which left him feeling on edge and twitchy. He was glad the Stargate was only a few hundred yards away, standing protectively at the far end of what had once been the temple grounds.

“Daniel?”

Jack twisted, keeping a firm grip on his weapon and looked back towards the central room of the temple, which in contrast to the rest of the buildings, remained intact. Daniel knelt near the archway that marked the entrance, the crayon he was using to obtain a rubbing of the hieroglyphs moving rapidly.

“Almost done,” Daniel replied, not looking up.

“O’Neill.” Teal’c appeared from his right, stepping carefully over a tumble of fallen stones and bricks. “It would appear this temple has been deserted for many hundreds of years.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Vines had grown up and covered must of the stones that were on the ground, the few walls of the temple that remained standing were roofless and also covered with thick vines and foliage. The forest had grown up to the edge of what had once been a fortified wall and despite the air of decay and desolation, O’Neill still felt uneasy.

“Where’s Carter?”

“She approaches now.”

Jack looked around and sure, enough, there she was, approaching them from the opposite side of the ruins. “What ya’ got?” O’Neill asked.

“Nothing, sir.” She shook her head, looking perplexed. “Everything is in ruins, except that one room.”

“I think I can explain that.” Daniel stood up, rolling up the paper he’d used for the rubbings.

“And?”

“I think this temple was built on the site of a much older structure. The hieroglyphs indicate this was probably a minor temple of Cronos’.”

“I would concur, Daniel Jackson.”

“Cronos has only been dead a few months,” Jack commented. “This place has been deserted for decades.”

“It is not uncommon for the Goa’uld to abandon a planet when it is of no more use to them.”

“Teal’c has a point, sir,” Carter added. “I’ve discovered trace readings of naquadah, if the mine ran out….” She shrugged.

“Okay fine, so Cronos abandoned this place.” He looked at Daniel wondering what it would take to get a straight answer. “What about this older structure?”

“Well, I can’t be positive until I finish the translation, but right here,” Daniel ran his fingers along the impost of the arch. “There are some carvings here, worn away by time, that I think are Ancient.”

Jack took a few steps back. “Are you sure?”

Daniel looked at him from over his glasses. “Like I said, Jack, I won’t know for sure until I finish the translation.”

“All right, then. You’ll have plenty of time for your translation once we get back home.” Jack adjusted his cap, his twitchy feeling easing only marginally. “Let’s blow this pop stand.”

Daniel brushed past him, following after Teal’c, Carter falling into step next to him. “Have any plans for Christmas, sir?”

Jack frowned. “Christmas? Wasn’t it just Thanksgiving?”

“Three weeks ago.”

That certainly explained all the cheery Christmas music he’d heard lately. “Haven’t given it much thought, Carter.”

“Well, I thought maybe—”

She stopped abruptly and whirled around, bringing up her weapon. It took him a split second longer to recognize the sound, but then it didn’t matter when transport rings shimmered into life in front of him and Carter, separating them from Teal’c and Daniel—and the Stargate.

Jack immediately started firing his weapon, reassured by the chatter of Carter’s weapon. Staff weapon fire arced past them and he looked around desperately for some cover.

“O’Neill!”

He could barely hear Teal’c over the sound of the weapons fire. “Get out of here!” Jack shouted, hoping they would hear his order and obey. He kept backing up, returning fire and taking dubious protection from a low outcropping of stone when he heard Sam cry out. She seemed to stumble and he grabbed her vest, pulling her into the partial protection provided by the rocks. The distinctive smell of scorched cloth and flesh told him what had happened before he saw her injury, pulling her hands away from the gaping wound in her side.

“Sir,” she gasped, her face pale and full of pain. “Get out of here.”

“Not without you,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. He pressed ineffectively with his gloved hand against the wound and she groaned. Blood oozed out from beneath his fingers and he shut down on the fear that knifed through his gut. She couldn’t die, he wouldn’t let her die. His entire world narrowed down to the woman bleeding at his feet and his need to get her to safety.

From the minimal safety of the ruined stone wall, Jack could tell the Jaffa were still firing and by the sound, he figured the transport rings were still active and disgorging more Jaffa. He heard weapons fire that could only be from Daniel and Teal’c and he hazarded a quick look when he heard one of the Jaffa bellow, “Kree!”

Daniel was at the DHD, Teal’c laying down cover fire, the Stargate whooshing into life, the majority of the newly arrived Jaffa rushing towards the Stargate. Which still left the Jaffa after them. Jack ducked back behind the rock, a staff blast barely missing his head. He needed to keep himself and Carter alive and not captured long enough for Teal’c and Daniel to return with reinforcements, but he was fast running out of options. Unless….

Half dragging Sam, he pulled her towards the uncertain protection of the inner room of the temple. Staff weapon fire scorched the air around them and he felt the hot singe of an almost-hit on his shoulder when he finally pulled her across the threshold into the chamber. They seemed to be in a small foyer and Jack wished he’d paid more attention to the construction of the chamber as he dragged the now almost unconscious Carter into the room.

It was dark and cool, but not damp and musty like he expected, the floor smooth and level. He could hear the sounds of the Jaffa drawing closer; Sam had collapsed near the entrance and he grabbed her under her arms and pulled her into the center of what he realized was a circular chamber. He’d just laid her down and knelt in front of her, his weapon ready, when a soft glow filled the chamber. He thought in a moment of panic that the Jaffa had tossed a shock grenade or something similar into the room, but then he realized that it was emanating from the walls and they glowed with runic-like figures.

A low hum started and Jack’s sense of impending doom increased when he saw that he and Carter were surrounded by an inlaid circle of the same glowing figures. Two Jaffa appeared in the doorway, their staff weapons aimed right at them and though he knew it was probably in vain, Jack fired his weapon as a blinding light filled the room and the Jaffa disappeared with a violent jolt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack thought he must have passed out for a moment, the wave of dizziness leaving him with a stomach-churning disorientation. His limbs felt heavy, his vision blurry and he wondered if he’d been hit by a staff weapon blast. The soft glow of the chamber had been replaced with a bright light; he still knelt on a smooth, stone floor and when his vision cleared, he could just make out the faint shapes of the symbols inlaid into the stone, though they were mysteriously dark. The room appeared larger now, at least triple in size to the small chamber in which they’d taken refuge, though he had no idea how that could be. And thank god, he could still hear Carter’s ragged breathing behind him, which he found oddly comforting in the midst of his confusion.

“Oh!” There was a loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass. Jack looked towards the doorway, a young girl stood there, her eyes big, a look of shock on her face and a pile of broken crockery at her feet.

“It’s okay,” he croaked, barely able to speak. “We don’t—” He stopped speaking when she abruptly turned and ran off. “—mean you any harm.”

With a renewed sense of urgency, Jack tried to move, but his limbs still felt heavy, like he was trying to run under water. He somehow managed to pull Carter into a sitting position, her head lolling against his shoulder. Feeling for the pulse in her neck, he finally found it, only marginally reassured by its too faint presence; the bleeding from the wound in her side seemed to have slowed down, but there was still way too much blood. He had to get them out of…wherever they were and to some place safe before the girl came back.

“Sam, come on, wake up. We have to get out of here.” He gently patted her cheek, hoping for some reaction.

She groaned softly. “Colonel?”

“That’s right. Come on, Carter. We need to go.”

Her eyes fluttered open, her normally clear eyes dull and clouded with pain. She clutched weakly at his arm. “I don’t think I can get up, sir,” she whispered.

“I’ll help you,” he said brusquely, forcing back the fear and anxiety clawing its way through his gut. Struggling to his feet, Jack swayed, closing his eyes until the momentary dizziness faded. When his head cleared, he reached down for Sam.

“In there!” A shrill, female voice exclaimed.

Jack managed to haul Carter to her feet, holding her against him with one arm and fumbling for his weapon with the other as the room filled with people and he and Sam were surrounded. The group quickly sorted itself into about half a dozen guards or maybe Jaffa, though they looked like no Jaffa that Jack had ever seen. They wore dark leggings and tunics, embroidered with an elaborate insignia and something that was definitely a weapon clutched in each of their hands and pointed at them.

Carter leaned more heavily against him and Jack wondered darkly how many he could take out before they were killed when a white-haired woman made her way to the front of the group. She looked like somebody’s grandmother, her hair swept up in a bun, an off-white apron covering a floor length dark blue dress. She looked at them, suspicion filling her face.

Taking a chance, Jack said, “Help us, please.”

The woman’s mouth tightened and Jack’s heart sank, but then she spoke, her voice brisk and filled with authority. “Take them to the High Minister.”

Sam could barely walk; having been relieved of his weapon, Jack slung one of Sam’s arms over his shoulders, holding onto her wrist and with his other arm he held her close to his side. He tried to be careful of her injury, the dampness seeping through in his uniform more alarming than her ragged breathing. Somehow they made it down a series of long corridors, flanked by the guards and the curious onlookers, following the older woman.

Jack tried to keep track of the twists and turns in the corridors, however the flickering wall sconces and periodic braziers provided little illumination and he finally gave up. Sam was practically a dead weight against him when their little troupe finally reached an impressive looking set of double doors. The woman stopped and rapped firmly against the door.

“Enter,” called a male voice from behind the doors.

Two of their guards opened the doors and they spilled into the room. Jack blinked against the brightness in the room, apparently fire-lit sconces weren’t used everywhere. A fire burned briskly in a large, open hearth fire place and a man sat at a large, ornate desk on the far side of the room. The man looked up, placing the pen he held in what Jack recognized as an old-fashioned inkwell. Jack judged the man to be about his age, but his short hair was pitch black with just the faintest hint of silver at the temples. He sported a matching goatee and his blue eyes were sharp and full of intelligence. And, perhaps more importantly, he looked surprisingly unperturbed at the spectacle before him.

“What is it, Phaedra?”

“We found these intruders in the Keep, High Minister.”

The man’s eyes flicked over them briefly before he looked back down at his desk, clearly dismissing them. “Have them executed.”

“No, wait!” Jack shouted, struggling past the guards. “You can’t just kill us.”

The man looked up, clearly not impressed. “It is not up to me. I do not know how you got as far as you did, but Lord Cronos tolerates no intruders in his fortress.”

One of the guards grabbed his arm and Jack struggled against him when suddenly Sam spoke, her weak voice ringing out clearly in the room. “Lantash, please. Help us.”

The High Minister stood so abruptly that his chair fell down, clattering to the floor. Jack wondered wildly what was going on. Besides the fact that he knew Cronos was dead, last he’d checked, Martouf—and Lantash—were also dead. But after her unexpected outburst, Sam lay limply against him and the High Minister looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Take the man to the dungeon,” the High Minister snapped. “And leave the woman here.”

“No!” Jack shouted, no way was he leaving Sam here. One of the guards pulled her out of his arms and three others grabbed him. He struggled as hard as he could, but the guards were too strong and he was outnumbered and they dragged him kicking and yelling out of the room.

His last image as the door slammed shut was of the High Minister picking up Sam in his arms and saying to Phaedra, his eyes glowing and his voice reverberating deeply, “Leave us. I will take care of her.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In an uncharacteristic display of agitation, Daemyn paced the length of the anteroom. The gold sarcophagus gleamed dully in the flickering light from the wall sconces, the chamber quiet except for the sound of his feet and the faint hum from the sarcophagus. The woman had been grievously injured, but she hadn’t been dead, it would not take long for the sarcophagus to heal her.

His mind raced, pulling on all his knowledge and the memories of hundreds of years. These two intruders were strangers to him, their clothing and their weapons like none he recognized. He had been with Cronos for eighteen months now, his cover was impeccable and as planned, he had rapidly risen to a position of importance within Cronos’ ranks and now this woman had appeared out of nowhere and called him by name. His true identity was a carefully guarded secret; to Cronos and the inhabitants of this planet he was known as Lord Tenurii, High Minister of Cronos the Great.

“She must die.”

Daemyn grimaced, tempted to ignore the voice of his symbiote. “We don’t know who she is or how she knows our identity,” he reminded his symbiote. He had no trouble sensing Lantash’s displeasure, it spread through him like a bad case of indigestion. “Do not worry. Phaedra is loyal to me and the others will not speak of what they’ve heard.”

“What do you intend to do with them?” Lantash’s voice was silky with displeasure.

“Find out what they know. Only then can we make an informed decision regarding their fate.”

The faint whir of the sarcophagus opening distracted Lantash from what would undoubtedly turn into a long diatribe and Daemyn waited as the cover slid open, revealing the woman inside. Daemyn gazed down at her; some might find her attractive, he supposed. Though she looked too pale and soft to him and even though she was dressed identically to the man with her, who was clearly a warrior, Daemyn didn’t think she looked capable of protecting even herself.

“Wake up, woman,” he commanded, slapping her cheek.

She groaned, her eyes slowly opening. She frowned when she saw him and then her eyes flew open in alarm and she sat up. “What happened? How did we get here?” Her voice was panicked and she struggled to get out of the sarcophagus.

“You were injured,” he answered, helping her out. “I placed you in the sarcophagus to heal you.”

She staggered slightly, but she didn’t reach for him, he noticed, instead gripping the gilt edge of the sarcophagus for balance. “Where’s the Colonel?”

“If you are referring to the man who accompanied you, he is in the dungeon.”

Some of her panic faded, though she still looked slightly dazed and her expression softened. “Thank you, Lantash,” she murmured, reaching out and resting her hand on his arm.

Daemyn felt the rage building in Lantash and finally had to relent. His eyes glowed as he grabbed the woman’s wrist and squeezed, rubbing the fine bones together. “How do you know my name, woman?” She cried out softly and Daemyn felt a pang of pity for her, but Lantash was implacable. “Tell me!”

“It’s me, I don’t know what’s happened, but it’s me,” she said, her blue eyes brimming with tears and her voice pleading. “Samantha Carter, host to Jolinar of Malk’shur.”

“You lie!” Lantash growled and shoved her away from him with all his considerable strength. The woman fell to the floor, cradling her wrist and looking stunned. Daemyn felt what little sympathy he had for the woman fade. She had to be lying….

“My Lord.”

“Yes, Phaedra, what is it?” he snarled, not even turning around to the look at the servant who he had dared to approach him.

“I am sorry, High Minister, Lord Cronos has sent a message via the communication orb and your immediate presence is required in the throne room.”

Daemyn could feel Lantash struggle to calm himself and he answered as evenly as he could. “Thank you.” Straightening his robes, Daemyn schooled his features to vague disinterest and turned around, walking past Phaedra and out of the sarcophagus chamber.

“What of the woman?” Phaedra asked as he passed.

“Put her in the dungeon with her companion. I’ll deal with them both later.” He paused, looking back at the woman, his expression hard and he let Lantash take over. “And Phaedra? Lord Cronos is not to learn of any of this, is that understood?”

She nodded. “Yes, my Lord.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

God, he hated dungeons, especially when he was locked inside one. The smells were always bad and he was sure the food, if they lived long enough to get any, would be worse. It was cold and damp, the floor covered with the mandatory straw and he hadn’t seen anyone since he’d been dumped there hours earlier. He was worried sick about Carter and lurking underneath the worry was the even deeper worry about what the hell had happened to them.

Jack had a few ideas, with quantum mirrors and Asgard beaming technology currently topping the list. However the distinct lack of any mirror-type thing and the conspicuous absence of Thor—or any other Asgard for that matter—seemed to negate that idea. And of course there was the whole Sam calling that snakehead Lantash thing, which of course gave credence to his back-up theory of an invisible quantum mirror, especially if Cronos was still around. Or maybe she’d hit her head. Bottom line was he really, really needed Sam to figure it out and get them back home. But more than that, he really needed Sam alive and well.

For oh, at least the hundredth time, Jack got up from the hard, wooden bench along the far the wall and walked over to the door, pressing as close as he dared to the grimy bars and tried to peer down the corridor. “Hey!” he shouted. “I’d like a few answers down here!”

And as he expected, there was no answer. Kicking at the bars in frustration, he grimaced at the solid thud his boot made against them. He hoped the bastard had gotten her some medical care, the sight of the gaping wound in her side never far from his thoughts. Jack sat back down on the bench, only to jump immediately back to his feet when he heard the sound of a door opening. Relief filled him when he saw two guards shoving Sam down the narrow corridor towards his cell.

“Stand back,” one of the guards growled.

Jack obliged by raising his hands and stepping back until his legs hit the bench. Despite the primitive conditions in the dungeon, the door operated with some kind of high-tech lock and the guard opened the door, pushing Carter roughly inside.

“Sam.” Jack caught her arm when she stumbled, ignoring the guards who closed the door and wordlessly left. He guided her over to the bench, sitting her down and then squatting in front of her. Her TAC vest was gone and he tugged her jacket off, grimacing at the scorched and blood stained hole in it.

“I’m okay,” she said. Her voice was subdued and weak, which wasn’t at all like her.

He ignored her, pulling her T-shirt out of her pants. The skin on her stomach and side was smooth and unblemished; he ran his fingers lightly over her warm skin, looking up when he heard her breath catch. “Does that hurt?”

She shook her head but didn’t say anything. Jack’s eyes narrowed, but he let it pass, pulling her T-shirt back down. “So what happened?”

“Sarcophagus,” she murmured.

“Ah.” He should have figured that out, which could only mean one person had put her in it. “That High Minister guy?”

“Yeah,” she said, wrapping her arms around her body with a shiver. Jack picked up her jacket from where he’d dropped it and draped it around her shoulders, sitting down next to her.

“That guy you called Lantash?”

Her head bobbed up and down again. Jack sighed. “I thought Lantash died with Martouf.”

“He did.”

“So how can that guy be Lantash?”

This time Sam sighed and she shifted slightly, angling herself so she could see him, her expression wan. “I don’t know how to explain it, sir. But that man is Lantash.”

“Then he didn’t die?”

“No, he died.”

Jack closed his eyes, normally he got straight answers from Sam, even if they were mostly hidden in scientific mumbo jumbo; Daniel was the one who beat around the bush. “Carter, just tell me who that guy is.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s Daemyn, Lantash’s host before Martouf.”

Jack stared at her; her blue eyes were completely serious and he suddenly figured out what she hadn’t said yet. “No, Carter. No. No. No. Don’t even think it, don’t even say it.”

“Sir, we have to have traveled back in time, it’s the only explanation.”

“No, Carter. No time travel. I forbid it.”

She managed a slight smile. “It’s too late for that, sir. It’s the only explanation that makes any sense.”

“Carter, if you think that makes sense….”

“Sir, I know my memories from Jolinar are sometimes vague and mixed up, but I recognize him. I know he’s Daemyn. Martouf told me he had been Lantash’s host for about hundred and twenty-five years. And Lantash was with Daemyn for at least twice that long.”

“Okay, Carter, even if I were to buy this whole time travel premise, just how did we actually travel back in time? I don’t seem to recall any wormholes or solar flares.”

“We must’ve activated something when we entered that chamber.” Her brow creased, “Didn’t Daniel say he thought the temple was of Ancient design?”

“He said something about the carvings on the archway being in Ancient,” Jack conceded.

Her gaze was steady and she said simply, “I can’t think of any other explanation, sir.”

Jack sighed. God, time travel gave him a headache. “So how do we get back?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, we got here somehow, Carter. There must be a way back.”

“We don’t even know how we got here in the first place, sir. Much less how to get back.”

Jack leaned back against the rough stone wall. There had to be a way…. “If it was something in that chamber, maybe we just need to get back there.”

“I don’t remember too much about our arrival here.”

Jack frowned, trying to remember the details of the room, that woman had called it the ‘Keep’. “The room was bigger…and the walls weren’t glowing.” Sam raised an eyebrow and he shrugged. “The only thing I remember that was the same were these, I don’t know, tiles in the floor. In a circle.”

“In a circle on the floor? Like on the planet with the repository of Ancient knowledge?”

Jack shuddered at the memory. “Maybe….”

“If that room is some kind of Ancient device, maybe it can send us back.”

“Don’t you mean forward?” She gave him a speaking look and he shrugged. “So all we need to do is get back to the room, you figure out how it works and we’re back home in time for Christmas.”

“Basically.”

“Piece of cake.”

She tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. In fact, she still looked pale with dark circles under her eyes. Jack didn’t know if she was just exhausted or if the sarcophagus hadn’t healed her completely. And since there anything they could do at the moment…. “Get some rest.”

Sam nodded and after a brief moment of hesitation, she shifted closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. Jack should have gotten up and moved far away from her, but he couldn’t, it felt right and he wouldn’t deny her some comfort after everything that had happened. The bench was hard and the rock wall uncomfortable against his back, but with Sam’s head on his shoulder, her soft body pressed against his side, he could almost forget they were locked in a dungeon, stranded back in time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, this smells delightful.”

Sam looked up from the wooden bowl of lukewarm broth cradled in her hands. The Colonel sat on the floor, knees bent and booted feet planted firmly in the straw, poking with his finger at something in his bowl. She sniffed…he was right, it didn’t smell that good but beyond the piece of dark bread that accompanied the broth, and it looked like it was all they were going to get. She watched him take a tentative sip and when he didn’t spit it back out, she figured it couldn’t be that bad.

Taking a small swallow, she grimaced at the slightly bitter taste, but she kept drinking, knowing that she needed the liquid. Sam set the bowl down after a few more swallows and broke off a piece of the bread, chewing it slowly. It seemed mundane and almost normal…if she could forget the lingering ache in her side…or the oppressive atmosphere of the dungeon…or their improbable journey back in time. She still felt exhausted, even with the brief nap she’d had earlier. After she’d been unceremoniously dumped in the dungeon hours earlier, they’d only seen the occasional guard; turning what had already been a long day after the fire fight on the planet into an even longer one.

She didn’t know if it was a side effect of almost dying from the staff weapon blast or the brief time she’d spent in the sarcophagus, but she felt like hell. Probably all of the above, combined with the worry of how were they going to get back home and the underlying unease she felt when she thought of Lantash. Sam instinctively knew they would need his help to return to their time and she knew she was taking a page out of the Colonel’s book in refusing to consider that they wouldn’t make it back. It had to be something in that room….

“We have to get back to that room,” she murmured.

“Tell me something I don’t already know, Carter.” He tossed his empty bowl towards the door of their cell. “But not tonight.”

“How do you know it’s night?” she asked, swallowing the last bit of the now cold broth. Her internal clock felt all screwed up, probably another effect of the sarcophagus and the lack of windows in their dungeon.

“Don’t. But I do know,” he looked at his watch, “it’s two a.m. on Earth and seeing as how we left on this mission at the crack o’ dawn, I say we turn in.” Sam watched with tired interest when he knelt and started pushing the straw together into a big pile. He then took off his jacket and spread it out on top of the straw, grabbing her scorched jacket off the bench and rolling it up.

“Come here.” His voice was soft and he held out his hand to her.

In spite of her exhaustion and worry, her heart started beating faster. It doesn’t mean anything, she told herself, taking his hand. It only made sense to share their limited resources—including body heat. She let him pull her down, settling onto her side at his urging. The floor was hard and uncomfortable, even with the extra bit of padding the straw provided, her jacket more of an unyielding lump than a pillow. However any discomfort she felt was outweighed by the presence of the man spooned up behind her.

On a practical level Sam knew their circumstances didn’t really call for such an arrangement, but she was content to let him direct their actions. Maybe it was because it absolved her of any responsibility, but she couldn’t deny the feeling of security that spread through her when he lay down on his side next to her. There was something infinitely reassuring in his proximity, yet those deeply ingrained instincts still had her stiffening when he shifted, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into the warmth of his embrace.

“Relax,” he murmured, his breath warm against her nape. “What happens in the dungeon stays in the dungeon.”

Sam couldn’t help but smile, turning her face into his shoulder and slowly relaxing back against him. “Things will look better in the morning?”

His chest moved in a deep sigh against her. “Something like that.”

If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine they were somewhere else. Not in a dungeon…or deep in an icy crevasse…or even in an underground boiler plant on a distant world. Maybe camping up in the mountains, surrounded by pines with all the stars in the Milky Way twinkling brightly above them or maybe even by a lake in Minnesota…. But that line of thought was probably at least as dangerous as her current position. She was tired, but her restless thoughts wouldn’t let her sleep. She shifted restlessly and when the Colonel’s arm tightened around her, she knew he was still awake as well.

In an effort to distract herself, she re-asked her question from what seemed almost a lifetime ago—her lifetime ago. “Have any plans for Christmas, sir?”

He sighed and when he didn’t say anything right away, she wondered if he was going to answer at all. He finally did, his voice low. “I’m not much into Christmas these days.”

Her heart tightened in her chest and she inwardly cursed herself for bringing up something that was obviously painful to him, when he surprised her by asking, “What about you?”

“Nothing special either, I guess,” she was forced to confess. “I had thought about going to visit my brother and his family, but this is their year to go to the in-laws.” She gave a slight shrug, using the brief movement to nestle a bit closer against him. They’d been interrupted when she’d started to ask him the next question, and given their current situation, maybe it wasn’t the most opportune time…but then again maybe the time would never be any better.

“Maybe you’d like to come over to my house for Christmas?” she asked with more confidence than she felt. He suddenly got very still behind her and she started to lose her nerve. “I mean, that is if we get out of here.”

“Trust me, Sam, we’ll get out of here.”

She slipped her hand under his, gratified when he threaded his fingers through hers. “I do trust you,” she murmured. “And Christmas?”

“Ask me again when we’re back home.”

It wasn’t quite the answer she wanted, and while she didn’t need any extra incentive to get them back to their future, it didn’t hurt to have an almost-promise of Christmas with him to sweeten her resolve.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You wished to see me, High Minister?”

Daemyn didn’t look up from the document, deliberately making the Chief of the Guard wait. He recognized it was probably a wasted tactic on Abdiel, the old Jaffa Master had seen more sycophants and courtiers come and go in his time with Cronos than one could count, but he couldn’t afford to show any sign of weakness, especially given what would be considered a highly unorthodox request.

Setting the parchment aside, Daemyn folded his hands together on the desk and couched his voice to careful nonchalance. “Bring the two new prisoners to me. I wish to interrogate them myself.”

Daemyn didn’t miss the faint flicker of curiosity on Abdiel’s face, but the older man merely said, “As you wish, my lord.”

“Have them brought here,” Daemyn instructed. “I cannot abide the stench of the dungeon.”

Abdiel nodded and with a low bow and strode out of the room. Daemyn sat back in his chair and gazed at the fire burning brightly across from him. He had wrestled all night with the question of what to do about the two intruders, and as was often the case, he and Lantash had differing views.

“You should have them killed.”

“Lantash,” he said wearily, “would it not be wiser to find out what they know before we decide to kill them?

“If they are dead, what does it matter?”

Daemyn abruptly stood, pacing restlessly. “Somehow they managed to infiltrate to the very heart of this heavily fortified castle. Are you not in the least bit curious as to how or even why? Not to mention the woman’s incredible claim to be host to Jolinar.”

“Your curiosity will be the death of us.”

Daemyn chuckled, relieved that Lantash was going to cooperate. “Admit it, you are just as curious as I am.”

“Perhaps I am. We both sense the woman was been blended with a Goa’uld, this could all be part of an elaborate ruse to expose us and our subterfuge to Cronos.”

Daemyn’s internal dialog with Lantash was cut short when he heard the complaining of the male prisoner from the corridor and then the knock on the door. Straightening his tunic, Daemyn walked over to the fireplace, standing in front of it before he said, “Enter.”

The double doors swung open, Abdiel entered first and stood to the side. The man was next, his hands shackled in front of him, with a two guard escort. He looked more annoyed than mad and when the guards shoved him unceremoniously to the center of the room and forced him down onto his knees, he merely said, “Well, it’s about damn time.”

Daemyn ignored the cocky arrogance of the man and watched as the woman joined him. She too was manacled and he was impressed that Abdiel also had two guards escorting her, the old Jaffa obviously knew better than to be taken off guard by the fact that the prisoner was a woman.

“Something which you would do well to remember,” Lantash remarked snidely.

Ignoring his symbiote as well, Daemyn studied her carefully. She looked pale and tired, but her color was good and she moved easily, reassuring him that she suffered no after effects from her injury or her time in the sarcophagus. And her blue eyes flashed with recognition…and something more when she looked at him.

Daemyn glanced at Abdiel. “Have your guards wait in the hall.” Abdiel nodded and the four Jaffa bowed and left the room. “Release them,” he instructed the man next.

Abdiel said nothing, merely doing as commanded and unfastening first the manacles of the man and then the woman. When Abdiel went back to his post next to the door, Daemyn said, “That will be all. I will call you when I’m finished.” Again, Abdiel said nothing and with a low bow, left the room, closing the doors behind him.

Daemyn remained in front of the fireplace, studying the two intruders, both of whom were remarkably quiet. They looked human, but he had never seen such attire as they wore and their confiscated weapons, while crude, were also foreign to him. “I would know who you are.”

“Well now, I’m Colonel Jack O’Neill, United States Air Force.” His head jerked towards the woman next to him. “And this is Major Samantha Carter, also of the United States Air Force.”

“Your designations mean nothing to me. What planet are you from?”

“We’re from—”

“Sir.” The woman, Samantha, laid a hand on O’Neill’s arm. “We can’t, remember? The grandfather paradox?”

O’Neill leaned close to her and whispered, “I don’t see that we have much of a choice, Sam. If he really is who you think, he’s the only one who can help us.”

“Your friend is right.” Daemyn intruded on their private conversation, “I am the only one here who can help you.”

Daemyn watched curiously as the two exchanged a long look; the woman’s hand tightened briefly on the man’s arm and then she nodded. The man, O’Neill, looked at him then, a confident look in his eyes that was at odds with his subservient position on his knees.

“We’re from the future,” the man said. “From Earth.”

“Earth is a forbidden planet,” Daemyn answered automatically. “And time travel is impossible.”

“Oh believe me, that’s what I used to say.”

“It doesn’t matter where we’re from,” Samantha added. “This isn’t the first time we’ve traveled back in time.” The woman’s voice and face were earnest as she continued. “We were on P3R-933 when were attacked by some Jaffa. We took refuge in this circular chamber with Ancient symbols inlaid in the floor. A chamber identical to the one where you found us.”

“Ancient?”

“Yeah, you know, the four great races?”

Daemyn felt Lantash’s huff of annoyance with O’Neill and quickly continued, not giving Lantash time to interrupt. “Yes, I am familiar with them.”

“Have you met the Furlings? What do they look like?”

“No,” Daemyn responded, momentarily distracted from their fantastical tale. “The Furlings are a very reclusive race.” He frowned, and in what he hoped was a show of confidence, he turned his back on his prisoners and stared down into the fire, his thoughts racing through the combined memories of all Lantash’s previous hosts and his Tok’ra memories. He had never heard such an outlandish tale before or of any sort of device in which to travel through time. However that didn’t mean it wasn’t so.

He turned back to the prisoners, mildly surprised that they hadn’t taken advantage of his inattention and were still kneeling on the floor. “Are you saying this circular chamber is a time machine?” he asked, addressing Samantha.

“It seems to be the only common denominator.”

“And you say you are from the future?”

“That’s how I know who you really are.”

Lantash couldn’t restrain himself any longer and Daemyn didn’t try to stop him. “I am Lord Tenurii, High Minister to Cronos the Great, you would do well to remember that, woman!”

“Lenny, give it up,” the man drawled, moving subtlety closer to the woman. “We know your secret identity and if you help us get back home, we’ll keep your secret.”

Lantash surged forward and Daemyn barely managed to restrain him from hitting the man. He stopped inches in front of O’Neill, breathing heavily. “You would do well to not antagonize Lantash,” he said harshly. “He does not take kindly to such disrespect.” Daemyn took a deep breath, fighting for control. “And neither one of us takes kindly to blackmail.”

“All we need is to get back to the chamber,” Samantha said quietly. “If you won’t do that for us, will you do it for Jolinar?”

The woman’s words were not totally unexpected, but it still took him by surprise. Daemyn took a few steps backwards and sat down on a low settee. Before when she’d made her unbelievable claim, he’d dismissed it as a feeble attempt to gain his trust, but now he wasn’t so sure. If they really were from the future…. “How is it that you know of Jolinar?” he murmured.

Daemyn was only vaguely aware of the look O’Neill and Samantha exchanged, before O’Neill nodded. O’Neill got to his feet and held his hand out to the woman, helping her up. She crossed to his side and sat down next to him on the settee.

“Daemyn, I know this is hard to believe, I’m not sure I’d believe it if I were in your position. But in the future, in my future, I was host for a brief time to Jolinar.”

Daemyn heard the sincerity in her voice and could see it shining in her blue eyes…eyes so like Saidah’s…Jolinar’s host. “How is that possible?” She had knocked him totally off-balance, even Lantash was unusually quiet.

“You know I can’t tell you anymore. We’ve probably already corrupted the timeline by telling you even this much.”

“Yeah,” O’Neill added. “We can’t have you killing your own grandmother or Lenny’s. Oh wait, do you snakeheads even have grandparents? I’ve always been a bit fuzzy on that whole thing….”

Samantha gave O’Neill a look Daemyn had no trouble interpreting and several more pieces of the puzzle suddenly fit together. There was an ease and familiarity between the duo he hadn’t noticed before, but now he realized it reminded him of the rather complicated relationship he and Lantash had with Saidah and Jolinar.

“They are lovers,” he murmured to Lantash.

To his surprise, Lantash answered seriously. “No…I think not yet, but it is undoubtedly only a matter of time.” And then with more insight than he usually gave Lantash credit for, his symbiote added, “It would take a strong woman to survive a blending. Perhaps she speaks the truth.”

“Tell me one thing,” Daemyn said. “Were you Jolinar’s last host?”

Samantha and O’Neill shared another look, O’Neill giving an almost imperceptible nod. She looked at him, her blue eyes sympathetic. “Yes. She was dying and sacrificed herself to save my life.”

Daemyn sighed; self-sacrifice was not something he would normally associate with his mate, however she was known for her bold moves and in the right circumstances, to sacrifice one’s life could be very effective. He would ask no more questions of the future; however that still left the present.

“What you ask is not easy,” Lantash said, breaking in and surprising Daemyn, who let his symbiote continue. “The room in which you were discovered is one of the most sacred chambers, used only for special ceremonies. It is also located in one of the most populated portions of the castle; it will be difficult to obtain covert access. I may be the High Minister, but there are still many who would not hesitate to betray me if it would increase their standing within the court.”

“There’s always a way,” O’Neill said. There was a subtle shift in his attitude that Daemyn recognized as relief. “The trouble with you Tok’ra is that you always try to make things too complicated. Keep it simple.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Jack tugged on the ends of the sash, trying to adjust the damn thing.

“Here, let me help you,” Sam said, coming to his rescue. She was already changed into her servant’s garb, a long dark blue muslin dress with the requisite off-white apron over it. She had a frilly, pleated matching dark blue cap covering her hair that reminded Jack of costumes from Colonial days. He supposed he should be glad Cronos hadn’t gone in for the whole Greek look on this planet, otherwise he was sure he’d be in some kind of short toga instead of the dark blue leggings and lighter blue tunic worn by the male servants.

“And to answer your question,” she said, with a final tug at the sash. “Yes, I think we’ll be able to get into the chamber undetected. No one is going to pay any attention to two anonymous servants sent to scrub and polish the floor.”

“And once we’re inside the chamber?” This was where Sam’s plan got too vague for his comfort.

“Hopefully whatever happened to activate the chamber in the future will happen again.”

“And send us back to where we started?”

“I hope so, sir.” Her smile was almost impudent when she added, “It’s almost Christmas.”

“Carter, you’ve got a date for Christmas and New Year’s Eve if we get back home.”

Sam’s quick smile was brilliant and Jack felt the perpetual slow Carter-burn in his gut burst into flames. But before he could say anything else, there was a knock at the door of the small room in the servant’s quarters where’d they’d been taken at the conclusion of their interview with Daemyn.

The door opened and Daemyn stood there with a woman that looked vaguely familiar. “Phaedra will take you to the chamber. It would look out of place for me to escort you there myself. But do not worry, I will not be far away should anything go wrong.”

“Are you sure we can trust this woman?” Jack asked. She looked all grandmotherly, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t rat them—or Daemyn—out.

“My loyalty is to the Tok’ra,” she said. “And to Daemyn.”

Sam got a curious expression on her face and then said slowly, “Saidah’s your daughter, isn’t she?”

The older woman inclined her head. “She was dying from a wasting disease; the blending with Jolinar saved her life. To show my gratitude, I have dedicated my life to helping the Tok’ra in whatever small way that I can.”

“We appreciate your help, Phaedra,” Sam said.

“Here,” Phaedra said, stepping back out into the corridor. She picked up a bucket half-filled with water and handed it him; Sam was given an armful of towels and two brushes. “You will need these to carry out your subterfuge.”

“I believe this is the device you requested?” Daemyn reached into his tunic and pulled out a GDO.

“Yeah,” Jack said, nodding at Sam. She took the GDO from Daemyn and slipped it into one of the large pockets on her apron.

“Phaedra, you may take them to the chamber.” Daemyn stepped aside and Jack gave the man a brief nod when followed Phaedra out into the hallway.

“Thank you, Daemyn.”

Jack paused when he heard Sam; looking back he saw her press a brief kiss to the man’s cheek.

“And Lantash,” she murmured quietly.

Daemyn, or Lantash, who really knew for sure with a snakehead, ran a finger down her cheek in a light caress. “For you, Samantha,” he rumbled. “And Jolinar.” The Tok’ra looked bemused and Jack almost felt pity for the man—almost. Sam Carter was potent, no matter what the circumstances.

“Come on, Sam,” Jack said. “Time to go scrub some floors.”

She graced Daemyn with a final, gentle smile and left him standing there, her smile transforming into that brilliant smile he craved when she looked at him. “On your six, sir.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the end, it was all rather anti-climactic; not at all like the first time they’d had to return from the past. There was no gunfire, wormhole diving or tie-dye. Phaedra walked with confidence and the authority inherent in her position, the other servants quickly stepping out of her way and even the one group of Jaffa they passed stood respectfully back while they walked past, Sam and he following along behind like her ducklings.

When they reached the chamber, Phaedra stopped at the entryway. “I shall return in one hour’s time,” she said loudly. “I expect the floor to be shining.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jack said, keeping his head down and bowing. Sam did the same, dropping a brief curtsey.

Phaedra nodded and her expression softened briefly and before she left, she murmured, “May the gods be with you.”

The chamber was dark and Jack took a cautious step into the room, when nothing happened, he turned to Sam. “What do we do now?” he whispered.

There was just enough light shining in through the entryway that he could see the slight frown on Sam’s face. “I think we need to go further into the room.” She took a few tentative steps forward. “Didn’t you say there was a circle on the floor?”

“Yeah.” Jack set the bucket down and walked purposefully towards what he judged to be the center of the chamber. He had maybe gone four paces when the chamber suddenly filled with light, the walls starting to glow.

“Sam!” he called. “Quick!” He held out his hand to her, their fingers meeting just as the circle of tiles on the floor started to glow. Jack quickly grabbed her hand and pulled her into the center of the circle with him, wrapping an arm around her and holding her close.

A low hum started, increasing in volume along with the intensity of the light in the chamber. “What do we do now?” she shouted.

“I don’t—”

There was a bright flash of light and Jack felt his stomach lurch in that ever-so-delightful manner.

“—know.” The expected wave of dizziness faded rapidly and he looked around, relief filling him when he saw they were back in the original chamber. His arm was still around Sam; she had both arms wrapped around him now, her face pressed into his chest.

“Hey,” he said, softly. “I think we’re back on P3R-933.”

Sam raised her head and looked around. “It looks like the same chamber,” she said, her voice uncertain. “But what year?”

“Jack? Sam? Is that you?”

Jack smiled, reluctantly removing his arm from around Sam. Her answering smile was tender and she sighed, tightening her arms around him for one brief moment before moving a respectable distance away from him just as Daniel skidded to a stop in the entryway of the chamber.

“You’re back!”

“O’Neill, Major Carter. It is good to see you unharmed.” Teal’c loomed up behind Daniel, a broad smile on his face.

Daniel’s delighted smile faded, his eyebrows rising as he stared at them. “What happened? Where have you been? Why are you dressed like that?”

Jack grinned and walked over to the younger man, clapping him on the shoulder. “One question at a time, Daniel, one question at a time. But right now,” he said, looking back over his shoulder and winking at Sam, “I think Carter and I would like to go home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

EPILOG

Jack sighed with contentment, plopping down on the sofa in Sam’s comfy living room. A fire burned merrily in the fireplace; it was Christmas Day, a light snow was falling outside, turning the dreary landscape into a glistening winter wonderland. All in all, he had to admit, it had been an unexpectedly pleasant day. Okay, maybe not so unexpected, given his present company. There really wasn’t anyone else he’d rather spend time with—in the present, past or future.

It had been with some trepidation that he’d shown up at her door on Christmas day, but he was a man of his word—even if the promise had been made over a hundred years earlier, if Daniel’s analysis of their time travel adventure was accurate. However, any nervousness had quickly disappeared; if Sam had harbored any doubts, she hadn’t let it show, treating him with casual friendliness. And if her smile seemed brighter, her gaze lingering on him more than usual, he wasn’t going to complain because he was guilty of the same.

“Here we go.” Sam walked into the living room, carrying two large mugs and handing him one. “Careful, it’s hot.”

Jack carefully took the mug of hot chocolate; he sniffed at the steaming drink, poking experimentally at the mini-marshmallows on top. He was aware of the amused look Sam directed his way when she sat down on the sofa next to him but chose to ignore her. His brow creasing in concentration, he finally took a small sip; his eyes widened at the strong liquor taste mixed in with the sweet chocolate and he looked at her.

“Just how much Peppermint Schnapps did you put in this?”

“Is it too strong?” He watched with interest as she took a sip of hers, her eyes closing as she seemed to consider. Her blue eyes fluttered open, sparkling with innocence. “Tastes okay to me.”

His gaze narrowed and he took another swallow of the hot chocolate, the liquor-laced drink settling warmly in his stomach. “Let’s just say it won’t be safe for me to drive home if I drink too much of this.”

Sam smiled, looking at him from under her lashes. “Not a problem…you can sleep here.”

Jack’s eyes widened, was she actually flirting with him? The warmth in his gut suddenly got hotter, and it wasn’t because of the Peppermint Schnapps in the hot chocolate.

And then she casually added, her eyes full of mischief. “I’m sure we can find a pile of straw somewhere for you to sleep on.”

He looked at her in surprise for a brief moment and then let out a short bark of laughter. “Only if you share it with me.” After the words left his mouth, he waited somewhat tensely for her reply.

She didn’t seem at all flustered; she merely smiled demurely while settling back onto the sofa, pressing close to his side. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Infinite possibilities loomed before him and acting on that feeling in his gut, Jack shifted slightly, putting his arm around her shoulders. “What happens off base stays off base?”

Sam tilted her head and met his gaze, her eyes still sparkled, but now he could see something more in their blue depths, something he had always known was there, waiting just for him. “Works for me.”

THE END


End file.
